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Madam President
By Lane Smith
Illustrated by the author
Whether the U.S. gets a woman president is still in doubt, but here a female narrator has already taken the role. In this sly, witty recitation of a president’s responsibilities, a ponytailed girl has the list down pat: give executive orders (to her cat); negotiate treaties (between said cat and dog); kiss babies; and veto, veto, veto.
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She Reads . . . Mystery
By Kaite Mediatore Stover
What Makes Sammy Read?
I’m mystified. I still can’t figure out why, what, when, and how men choose to read. Their methods and selections are inscrutable and as bewildering as what makes them laugh. I decided to conduct my own investigation by asking the men I work with one probing question, “What and why do you read?”
I started with Walsch, my bus driver, when I saw his daily paperback, spine-cracked and perched precariously on the fare box. This morning it was Sahara, by Clive Cussler. I swiped my bus pass and posed my question. Walsch jerked the bus out of gear and stomped on the gas. “Whaddaya think, I like driving a bus all day? Gotta keep my mind off all the crazy cabbies and smelly pedestrians!” He speaks enthusiastically of his other favorite authors, W. E. B. Griffin and Richard Marcinko. “Now, those guys are men who do things. No one tells them which route to take. Potholes, baby carriages, mounted cops with radar guns. No match for Dirk Pitt and the Rogue Warrior.” I ponder for a moment. “It’s kinda like why women read romance, isn’t it?” I ask. Walsch’s face twists and turns purple as he corners on two wheels and comes to a screeching halt at my stop. “Off my bus! Maybe I’ll pick you up at 5:20!” He slammed the door and disappeared in a cloud of exhaust.
At the neighborhood café, Simon gladly shows me what he has been flipping through, a coffee-stained copy of Blood Makes the Grass Grow Green. Simon is gleeful as he describes the camaraderie of the soldiers as they face harrowing and hilarious circumstances in Afghanistan. He slyly alludes to their raunchy and revealing conversations and turns wistful speaking about one soldier’s yearning to return home and settle down with the right woman. This précis reminds me of a chick-lit novel. As I explain my theory to Simon, he blanches and forgets to charge me for my latte.
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| Given Hillary’s cry of “full speed on to the White House,” it should be clear that the title of Clinton in Exile refers to her husband Bill. Nonetheless, optimistic Obama supporters may snatch up Carol Felsenthal’s ambiguously titled book in the hope that it provides prognostication.
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It’s possible that Anna Blundy relies a little too heavily on genre clichés in her foreign-correspondent crime story, The Bad News Bible—maybe one too many scenes of the gang at the bar—but no self-respecting hard-boiled fan wants to be caught counting drinks. Bill Ott calls this one a keeper.
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| There are many ways to categorize crime novels (e.g., “By Michael Connelly,” “Not by Michael Connelly,” and “Possibly by Michael Connelly”), but in Read On . . . Crime Fiction, Barry Trott strikes a perfect balance between high-concept and highly humorous (e.g., “Serf and Turf: Medieval Mysteries”).
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He Reads . . . Mysteries
By David Wright
There’s a lot about women that we guys just don’t get, such as the intense pleasure you take in clothes shopping, or why you buy little micropurses that are too small to hold anything. Why are you always freezing cold, and what’s the deal with going to the bathroom in groups? When it comes to your reading, here are a few areas that leave us scratching our heads.
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